Bloodbirds
by phrosty-chan
Summary: Bakura is being tortured to death by Melvin, who tells him Marik has left him. Oneshot. Thiefshipping/Psychoshipping. Rated T for blood.


His fingers trailed lazily up the other man's sculpted chest. "I know you're listening to me..." he cooed, stopping at the man's nipple and rubbing it gently. Bakura tensed as he fought to keep his body calm. Melvin sneered, a sinister sneer that pulled across his mouth like a zipper closing. "I wouldn't count on it, Melvin. If you think I'm enjoying this, you can think again. If you ever thought at all, that is." He chuckled weakly, but choked as the slashes in his stomach went taught. They were shiny wounds, brilliant and new. If they were smaller, they'd look like cat scratches, but there were perhaps the very opposite. They were long and cruel, gashed with a knife. They were still bloody, and staining the white bed sheets rapidly. The red fluid spread beautifully, and to Bakura's fogged brain, it looked like ragged birds taking flight. Melvin nibbled the thief's cheek, his tongue poking almost delicately onto his tightly shut lips. "Come on, Bakura...you're probably desperate by now. How many weeks back was it? Three? Four?" he laughed, but it was more like a maniacal giggle. "He left you begging at his feet not to go. And where did that get you? Nowhere." Bakura looked down at the blood and growled. "I care for no one, not even him. He was alone and had nobody and he clung to me. I cannot beg. Not anymore." He closed his eyes, but they snapped open as Melvin violently cut into his arm. "Nngh...what do you get from this, hn?" Melvin slid his head up Bakura's body, dragging his wet tongue over the crumbling blood. Bakura hissed as the rough flesh ripped his wounds. "I don't get anything from your suffering. That is what makes it so fun," murmured Melvin, fingering his knife. He started casually picking his nails. "Seeing you so helpless is my drug. You, the King of Thieves, tied up here, like a tiny kitten." Bakura grinned. "I just feel embarrassed that I have been made to look so foolish by you, the filthy vermin that has found it's way into my throne." His mouth narrowed with hatred as he spat the last word. Melvin sneered again, and his eyes widened insanely. "Why do you keep fighting?!" he cried, almost shouting. "Marik left your sorry ass in the _dust_, and he doesn't regret it! _Why_ - _don't_ - _you_ - _just_ - _DIE_!" With each word, Melvin cut another slash into Bakura's flesh. Bakura did not feel the pain. He had already felt too much pain to think that this was anything but trivial. His heart had broken in two. No, it had not broken, more like torn and ripped and shredded and ruptured and snapped and stripped apart into a mangled, black mess between his lungs. He could have, Bakura thought, he could have beaten Melvin right then and there, but he had lost so much blood that the room was beginning to swim, to ripple, and he knew he didn't have much longer. His breath came in ragged gasps, sounding like a blacksmith sharpening a sword.

Haaaaaah...Haaaaaaah...Haaaaaah...

Bugger, thought Bakura. Guess I didn't think about this before... his eyes slid toward Melvin. But he wasn't Melvin. There, instead of the maniacal wackjob who had probably fatally wounded him, was...Marik. And he was...Bakura squinted. It looked as if drops of water were pouring out of his large, childish purple eyes. "Y...you..." whispered Bakura, and the thief was surprised at the weakness of his voice. "You're...here...?"

_rock-a-by baby, in the treetop _

Marik sobbed harder. "Y-y-yes..." he cried. "W-what Melvin s-s-said...it w-wasn't true at a-all..." Bakura blinked, and he felt his eyelashes brush gently across his face. He noticed his heartbeat, growing fainter and slower as he breathed. He was fighting a losing battle, and no God Card was going to help him now. "Ah..." he laughed. "I knew you were...to stupid to st...stay away..." Marik's mouth curled in the smallest smile. "I guess I w-was..." he croaked. Bakura coughed and his head sank. Marik gasped and caught him before it hit the cement floor. "Bakura!" he screeched, his voice breaking.

_when the wind blows, the cradle will rock_

"Don't...you're not...Bakura!" Bakura's head slipped a little further down onto the floor. His eyes were slits now, not enough energy to even open them fully. Tears began to flow from Marik's eyes again and plopped unceremoniously onto the bed. "Bakura...Bakura...Bakura..." he wailed. "Shut up..." groaned Bakura, "I hate noise." He was going onto his side, but Marik, still crying heavily, took the thief's face in his hands and placed a long, soft kiss on his lips. Bakura, shocked, muttered, "What did you do that for...?" Marik looked down at him, imploring him to understand. "Because I love you..."

_when the bough breaks, the cradle will fall_

The sounds and sentences were getting muffled. The whole world was blurry. Even his own pool of blood looked like a lake of red rose petals. Bakura sighed like a child, and in that moment, he did look like a child, like his little self before the pain and devastation had twisted his soul. Before he was the infamous King Of Thieves, Akefia, and before he had become one with the monster Zorc. He felt at ease now, lying here in his lover's arms...

_then down will come baby_

He closed his eyes to the whiteness that clouded them. He could hear Marik, still blubbering stupidly. "M...marik..." he whispered. "I'm not going to die. I'm just...going to...leave for a little...while..." The whiteness was replaced by black, beautiful nothingness. He breathed out one more time.

_cradle and all_

FIN


End file.
